Grief Doesn’t Always Wear Black

We talk about grief like it only comes with death.

Like it only arrives when something stops breathing.

But grief is everywhere.

It’s in the job you never got but still wake up thinking about.

It’s in the version of yourself that tried, failed, and never fully recovered.

It’s in friendships that still exist, but no longer feel safe to lean on.

Nobody tells you you’ll spend years mourning things that are still breathing.

You grieve parents who are alive but no longer understand you.

You grieve lovers who stayed, yet emotionally left.

You grieve dreams that didn’t die — they just learned how to haunt you quietly.

Some grief is loud.

Most of it is silent.

It shows up when you’re alone at night and remember who you were supposed to be.

When you smile in public but feel behind in private.

When life moves forward and you’re still holding the weight of what never happened.

There’s no funeral for lost time.

No sympathy card for delayed lives.

No closure for becoming someone you didn’t plan to be.

So you carry it.

You function.

You adapt.

And you learn that grief isn’t about losing something once —

it’s about losing it over and over again while the world expects you to be fine.

That’s the grief nobody prepares you for.

The kind that doesn’t end…

because nothing ever truly left.